


Operation: Merry Quinnmas!

by PracticallyIJ



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Christmas Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5545760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PracticallyIJ/pseuds/PracticallyIJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q has been having a hard time lately, and Sal decides to give him the best Christmas he's ever had.<br/>Pure, tooth rotting fluff. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation: Merry Quinnmas!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a Christmas gift for my best friend, and now she's read it I decided to share it with everyone else. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas everyone! (Although I am aware it's a day late ha)

**Friday 18th**

It was a week to Christmas, and New York City had been buzzing for almost a month already with festive spirit. Sal was always a big kid around this time, getting excited about buying presents, and spending ages guessing at what gifts he might receive. This year was no exception, and with only seven days to go, he was cheerful and high-spirited.

In stark contrast to Sal’s bubbling enthusiasm, though, Q had seemed melancholy and dejected for a while, not really talking much to anyone, just turning up to film and going home again. Sal had been keeping a close eye on him, tactfully making sure he was eating and taking care of himself, without badgering him too much. Today, though, something was different.

Q arrived at the shoot that morning - the last day of shooting before Christmas vacation - and Sal could tell with one look that something was wrong. He exchanged a look with Joe and Murr, then pulled Q aside and sat him down in a quiet corner. His best friend looked really bad - he looked fragile and exhausted, his eyes red as though he’d spent the night crying. Sal’s heart squeezed in empathy for him. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hey, Sal.”

“You haven't been doin’ so good lately, huh?” Sal hadn't really brought it up before now, except to let Q know he knew the guy was struggling, and that he was there if he needed to talk.

Q met Sal’s gaze, and Sal’s heart broke - he looked so miserable, his eyes so unhappy and world weary, so fucking _apologetic_. He squeezed them shut briefly and let out a shaky sigh, then looked at Sal again, squinting a little. “Uh, no. No, I’m not doin’ great.” He gave a small smile. “I’ll get through it though, bud. Always have before, right?”

Sal didn't bother hiding his concern - he knew Q understood that he worried. “...Yeah. Look man, I know I said this before, but if you need anything, whether it’s to call and talk at God knows what time, or just to sit and watch Netflix at three in the morning - fuckin’ _anything -_ don’t even hesitate to ask, and I’ll be there in a second. You’re my best friend, and I’m here for you. Always.”

Q stood up, and Sal rose too. Then, without warning, he enveloped Sal in a tight, warm hug. “Thanks, pal,” he murmured into Sal’s ear. It felt really nice, “you got no idea how much you help me get through this shit, just by bein’ there.”

Sal hugged back just as tightly. He felt he couldn't communicate strongly enough just how much Q and his happiness meant to him. “It’s what I’m here for, bud.” Moving apart, he cupped the back of Q’s neck briefly, looking into his eyes, then let go. A small, genuine smile was gracing his friend’s lips, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Sal hoped that, although that smile didn't necessarily mean Q was miraculously fine, he’d at least managed to lift his mood for a while.

“You okay to go now?” Sal squeezed Q’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Let’s go kill it, buddy.” They started walking over to Joe, Murr and the rest of the crew.

*********

Hours later, Sal was sprawled on his sofa, flipping channels aimlessly. He couldn't concentrate on anything, couldn't stop thinking about Q. He’d seemed okay for the rest of the shoot, laughing and engaging with everybody for the first time in what seemed like forever, and although it was a relief to see, Sal knew his best friend too well to believe that it was a permanent upswing in his mood. He wished desperately that he could do _something_ to help. Then on the heels of that wish, a thought occurred to him, and he sat up abruptly. There was a way he could try to help Q feel better - Christmas was in a week, and Sal had just enough time to make sure it was the best, most unforgettable fucking Christmas the guy had ever had in his life. He found notepaper and a pen, and wrote a title on top of the page - _Operation: Merry Quinnmas!_ Chewing the end of his pen, he thought for a long while, then smiled to himself and started writing a list. He was gonna have to make some calls.

 

**Saturday 19th**

The next morning, Sal, dressed and ready to go, called Q up. He chewed on his lip nervously as he waited - if Q wasn't awake, he was fucked.

Eventually there was a click on the other end of the line. “Hey, Sal, what’s up?”

Q sounded down again today, and Sal felt _so_ anxious. He hoped to fuck that his friend would go for this. “Hey. You wanna come over? I gotta talk to you about somethin’.”

“Huh? Okay. Gimme half an hour and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome. Dress warmly, buddy.”

There was a confused silence before Q replied. “...Uhh... okay. Be right over.”

Sal ended the call and flopped down on his sofa, then got up again and started tidying. He couldn't shake this restless feeling of uneasiness, borne from hours of worrying about whether he’d planned the right things, whether Q would appreciate what he’d done, or whether he would think Sal was stupid for going to such lengths. Either way, it was too late now - he’d been on the phone all morning, booking shit and calling in favours when it was last minute. If there was one thing Sal knew how to do really well, it was plan, and he had this whole week planned out now. So he hoped to God that Q was up for it.

He was pulled out of his fretting by the doorbell ringing. Heading into the hallway, he answered the door, and Q, one hand in his pocket, the other giving a little wave, stood there with a small smile. “Hey. You wanted to talk to me, bud?”

“Um, yeah. Come in.” Sal waved for Q to follow him, and when they were seated, he cleared his throat, wondering how to pitch this. Should he tell him about the entire week, or just about today and leave the rest till later? He decided to take a gamble and leave the rest of the week a surprise - he’d have to make sure Q had no plans, though. “Okay. Well... I know you’ve been pretty low lately, so I guess I planned a few surprises for you. No, not like that. I mean _real_ surprises.”

Q looked a little distrustful, which was understandable, considering the sort of shit that usually passed for a surprise in their circle of friends. He also looked confused. “Not that I’m not up for fun stuff, but… but why?”

Sal was ready for this question. “Because you’re my best friend, and it’s Christmas, and I wanna make you feel good for as long as possible. Is… is that okay, buddy?”

“Of - of course it’s okay.” The expression on Q’s face seemed to be made up of a mixture of so many different emotions that Sal could barely pick them out - there could be disbelief, or surprise, and maybe something indefinable that for some reason made Sal’s breath catch in his throat - but it was impossible to tell. Then it passed, and his expression settled on something soft, affectionate. When he spoke, his voice was gentle to match. “So. What’s this surprise, Sally? I’m assuming it’s related to me havin’ to dress warm.”

“You’ll see. C’mon, we’re goin’ to Manhattan.”

**********

“Ice skating?” They were at the Wollman Rink in Central Park, and Q was looking at Sal with a half smile, which meant he definitely wasn’t averse to the idea.

Sal shrugged. “Well, we haven’t been yet this season, and I thought it would be fun.”

Q’s smile widened a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Sal’s stomach flipped. “Yeah, I guess it will. Doesn’t look too busy either, which means I can beat your sorry ass in a race.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Sal let out an incredulous laugh. “Look here, pal, I’ll be around that rink twice before you’re even halfway.”

“Prove it.” Q smirked as he spoke, and Sal wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch him or fuck him. He was leaning heavily towards the latter. He didn’t trust himself to answer, simply rolling his eyes and heading over to the skate rental shack.

Eventually, they were both on the ice, and once they were used to it, Sal turned to Q. “Ready to accept your beatdown, Quinn?”

“We’ll see who gets the beatdown, _Vulcano_.”

Sal grinned. “Okay then. On the count of three, okay? One... two!” He took off at top speed, laughing at the other man’s yells of _cheat!_

Looking over his shoulder briefly, he saw that Q was coming up behind him, and, getting cocky, turned around and started skating backwards while making stupid faces and _suck it!_ gestures. Then he realised it was a fatal mistake - skating backwards slowed him down a shit ton. Within what felt like a split second, Q tackled him to the ground, knocking the air out of him with an “oof!”. It was lucky he was wearing a bunch of layers, otherwise he’d be really bruised. He wheezed, trying not to laugh. “What the fuck, man?”

Q started laughing. He laughed so hard he was breathless, and had to speak in between gasps of air. “I’m sorry! You - you slowed down and I couldn’t stop! It’s not my fault you’re a smug cheatin’ asshole!”

Sal couldn’t help it - he joined in. “Oh my God, Quinn. You know, you could at least buy me dinner before you try to fuckin’ jump me.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Q’s smile faded slightly, and suddenly Sal was very aware of how close they were - the other man was literally on top of him, gazing down with a weird, tense look in his eyes.

“Uhh…” Sal’s brain stopped working, and witty comebacks totally failed him.

Q seemed to take his uncertainty as discomfort, because his expression turned slightly apologetic. He got up, brushed himself off, and offered Sal a hand, helping him up. “Let’s maybe take it slower now, huh?”

They set off around the rink at a slower pace. Sal had no idea whether it was because he was still all in his head about the odd moment that had just happened, or if he was just slow on the uptake - but they were halfway around the rink before he realised that their hands were still joined. He looked down at their linked hands, then across at his friend. “Uh, I dunno whether you noticed, but you’re still holdin’ my hand, buddy.”

“Oops, sorry.” Q cast a sideways glance at Sal. He was blushing a little. “You want me to let go?”

Sal kinda didn't want to let go, but there was no way he was letting Q know that. So he grinned and attempted a joke. “Well, y’know. People will talk.”

Q released his hand, but shrugged, seeming nonchalant. “Fuck people. Let ‘em talk.”

“You don't care if people think we’re…” Sal paused, but when Q just looked at him, one eyebrow raised, he carried on, feeling himself going red, “you know… together?”

The other man just huffed out a little laugh, his silvery breath swirling in the air. “No. Why would I? What, you think I’d be ashamed if we were - I mean, if people thought we were?” He looked embarrassed all of a sudden, scratching his nose - a classic Quinn tell.

Sal wondered briefly at Q’s slip of the tongue and sudden discomfort, but put it down to his speech issues. “No. I guess… I guess I was just curious is all.”

They skated for a while longer, racing a few more times around the rink - without incident or cheating this time - and Sal won two out of three times. As he crossed the invisible finish line again, feeling breathless and exhilarated, he turned around and caught Q’s eye. He looked exactly like how Sal felt - his eyes were sparkling, breath coming fast, and there was a wide smile on his face. He looked happier than he’d looked in _weeks_ , and Sal began to think that maybe - just _maybe_ \- this plan might work.

He was jerked out of his thoughts when Q came to a sudden stop inches away from him, and nearly overbalanced, prompting him to put out his hands and grab the other man’s waist to right him. “Whoa. Careful, buddy. Don’t want a repeat of earlier, huh?”

Q’s smile turned flirtatious - borderline lecherous. “Oh, I dunno. I could get used to lyin’ on top of you.”

Sal nearly fell over. Blushing furiously, he let go of his best friend and looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment. He knew Q was joking, anything else would be impossible, but _God_ , it felt so _real,_ so sincere that for a second he’d fooled himself into believing it. Plus it was fucking hot. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. “Uh, I’m… I’m getting cold. Why don’t we go get coffee?”

“Sounds like a fuckin’ plan, bud.” Q was gazing at him now with fondness, his eyes and smile soft and tender around the edges. He reached across and gently tugged Sal’s hat further down around his ears - a gesture that set Sal’s heart pounding - and then he wordlessly skated away towards the rental kiosk.

**********

A fifteen minute walk later, they were in the cosy warmth of a small coffee shop, sitting in a quiet corner with their drinks. Q looked tired, but not the kind of drained, insidious exhaustion that came packaged with depression. It looked like the type that came after a day of doing something truly tiring. And he looked content. Sal knew that it might not stay, that this respite could last until January or just until tonight - but he’d be fucked if he wasn’t gonna try his hardest to keep it away as long as he could.

Q caught Sal staring at him, and his lips quirked up in that adorable little half-smile. “What, have I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No, I was just thinkin’. You look like you’ve had a good day.”

The other guy frowned a little, then his face lit up as he met Sal’s eyes. When he replied, he sounded a little surprised. “I guess I have. Thanks, buddy.” He took a gulp of his coffee and sighed, then spoke again softly. “God, what would I do without you?”

Sal’s heart fluttered. “Ehh, you’d probably have someone else to mother the shit outta you.”

“No, Sally, I mean it,” Q’s expression became serious, his eyes wide and sincere, “you - that is, I… _fuck._ ”

He seemed to suddenly be struggling for words, which tended to happen when he wanted to communicate something important. Sal thought he knew what he meant, though. He reached across and touched his friend’s hand. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s what I’m here for, Brian. It’s what I’ve always been here for. You don’t have to think about what you’d do without me, bud, because it’ll never happen.”

“Thank you.” Q sounded a little choked up. He finished the rest of his coffee, then smiled across at Sal. “You ready to head home? I’m beat.”

“Me too. C’mon then.”

After about an hour’s drive, Q pulled up to Sal’s house. He glanced across at Sal. “Thanks again for today, man. It was really great.”

“I had fun too.” Sal felt weirdly shy. “By the way, don’t make any plans for the rest of this week if you can. I know we got lunch with Joe and Murr on Tuesday, but that’s okay.”

“Uhh, alright. I’m not seein’ my family until the afternoon on Christmas day anyway, so...” Q looked confused, “...can I ask why?”

“Nope.”

“God, you’re _killin’_ me. Fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Definitely. Not till later on though, buddy.” Sal leaned over and hugged his best friend, inhaling that well-known fragrance that was _home_ and _comfort_ to him - clean clothes, shampoo, and a spicy-sweet smell that was just _Q_. As he said goodbye and got out of the car, the scent lingered in his nostrils, took over his head. He never wanted it to fade.

 

**Sunday 20th**

The next day was crisp and clear, the sky a cloudless blue, and the sun deep and golden. That afternoon Sal looked out of the window, hoping it would hold - for today’s surprise, he needed the weather to be perfect. He sent Q a quick text, feeling a little nervous.

_Hey, you ready to go? I’ll drive today._

Not a minute later, he got his reply.

_Yep. See ya in ten, bud._

**********

“Hi.” Q got into the car and pulled his seatbelt on. Today he looked slightly melancholy, in contrast from the way he’d left Sal the evening before. “So what’ve you got in store for me today, bud?”

“First of all, if I told you, it’d spoil the surprise. Second,” Sal reached across and put a hand on Q’s arm, “are you alright? You look kinda sad.”

Smiling, Q waved off Sal’s concern. “Don't worry, I’m fine. Besides, you’re here now, buddy.”

“Well, okay. Let’s get goin’, then.” As they drove away, Sal wondered what _“besides, you’re here now”_ meant. Did it mean _you’re here now, so I_ have _to be fine_? Or maybe _you’re here, so I’m fine now_? He hoped it was the latter, hoped that his friend wasn’t so guarded and reticent about his feelings that he felt he couldn’t be himself around Sal.

As they drove, the conversation flowed steadily. It was mostly about pointless banal shit, like work or what they ate for breakfast, and sometimes it descended into pure silliness - stupid impressions and weird scenarios. After one particularly bizarre thought - “imagine if dogs had _people_ faces!” “are you fuckin’ _high?” -_ it just ended in helpless giggling, Q bent almost double over the dashboard, breathless with laughter, as Sal desperately tried to get his shit together and focus on the road. He risked a quick glance over, and in the split second that he had his eyes on the other man, took in the way he looked in that moment. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears rolling down his face, and he was hugging himself, clutching at his sides as if he might actually fall apart from laughing so hard. Sal realised with a jolt that he’d never been more in love in his entire life.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, Sal.” Q sat up slowly, getting his breath back and wiping his face. “Why would you even say that? That’s such a weird fucking thing to say.”

Sal tried not to start giggling again. “It - it’s just a really funny thought. Like… can you imagine if you pretend to throw a stick or somethin’, and it has this… this real _fuck you_ kinda face when it comes back with nothing?”

“Sometimes the shit that goes through your head worries me, buddy.” Q started laughing again.

Sal smirked across at him. “I’ve just been around you too long. My mom always said you were a bad influence.”

“Bullshit. Your mom fucking loves me.”

“Alright, you got me.” Sal turned into a nearby parking lot and parked up. “Here we are, bud. Well, sorta. Little walk and we’ll actually be there.”

It was coming up to half past three, and Sal wanted the timing to be perfect. They started walking, and when they were almost there, comprehension dawned on Q’s face. He looked surprised. “Huh.”

“What? What is it?” Sal didn’t know whether that was good or bad, and his stomach started churning.

“Oh, nothing.” The other man smiled at Sal, crooked and soft. “I just wasn’t expectin’ the Empire State Building, is all.”

Sal still wasn’t a hundred percent sure if his friend was pleased or not. “is - is that a good thing?”

“Well… yeah.” Q’s expression was half-confused, half-amused. “God, it’s been years since I’ve been here.”

“Me too.”

They walked into the foyer and up to the counter, and Sal, with a furtive look at Q, spoke with the attendant, then handed her his card. Half a minute later, he had two tickets, and they were on their way to the elevator. Q frowned, and snatched the tickets off him before he could protest. “Holy fuck! You got express tickets? Why? They’re fucking _expensive_!”

Sal shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t want us to wait in line for ages.”

“Sal, I wouldn’t have minded. Why… why would you spend this much money on me?”

Q looked really guilty. This was the exact opposite of what Sal wanted, so he took his best friend’s hand impulsively, shaking it a little. “No, don’t you dare feel bad. I did this because I _wanted_ to, and because you’re goddamn worth it. Besides, it’s fuckin’ Christmas. Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“I... I guess so.” Q still looked a little dubious, but then he met Sal’s eyes, and his warm brown gaze held such deep, unflinching affection that Sal felt like the only person in the entire building. It was all so fucking clichéd, but for a long moment it was like they were frozen in time.

Then someone behind them cleared their throat, breaking the tension that had formed between them. It was just some guy. “excuse me, you’re blocking the doorway.” he said, looking from Q to Sal and back with a faintly critical expression.

“Uhh, sorry, man.”

They both moved out of the judgmental asshole’s way, and stepped into the elevator.  

**********

The ride up to the top took fifteen minutes. They talked little while they were on their way, partly because there were a bunch of other people in the elevator - but also because Sal was still feeling the tension from before. He recalled the way Q looked at him, how he _always_ seemed to look at him, and suddenly found it hard to breathe. He tried to suppress the hope that had started blossoming inside his chest. It was definitely just wishful thinking - there was no way his best friend could possibly feel the same as he did. Sure, they flirted outrageously sometimes, and when Q was feeling unusually tactile, physical boundaries were basically nonexistent - but in the end it meant nothing. Sal _thought_ he’d accepted that years ago, but here it fucking was, coming back to haunt him again.

The elevator stopped, and there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Q smiling at him. “Our floor, bud.”

“Oh yeah! Shit, I was miles away.” They stepped out, and as the cold New York air hit them, Sal totally forgot what he’d been thinking about.

The top deck was open, all the better to see the stunning Manhattan view, and it was unusually quiet - probably a consequence of it being just a few days before Christmas. It was about a quarter past four, and the sky had turned a deep, rich orange-pink. The sun, hitting just the perfect angle right then, set the building aglow, bathing the both of them in golden, hazy light. For a while, they simply stood there in silence, watching the sun drop below the horizon. Gradually, the sky changed from pink, to a deep, vibrant purple, and all the lights of the city started twinkling.

At some point Sal became aware that Q had taken his hand, grasping it firmly in his own. He let out a sigh, feeling as though every single light out there was shining at that moment just for them. Turning his head to look at the other man, he noted that Q was looking out across the skyline with a serene, untroubled smile on his face. His posture was relaxed, and he looked… _happy._ Sal wondered what he was thinking about, and was just about to ask, when the other man seemed to realise he was being watched. He looked with a gentle smile at Sal, who blushed at being caught out, and broke the silence. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Sal bit his lip, feeling suddenly bashful, and looked away, acutely conscious of their joined hands. _C’mon, Sal, think of something to say!_

Luckily, Q put him out of his misery. “So, ah, this… this was really great, Sal. Thanks.”

“No problem, buddy. I know you’ve been here before, but I guess I just wanted you to see somethin’ really nice. I just really want you to remember this - the view, the sunset - when you’re feelin’ down, and know that there’s beauty in the world.” Sal didn’t know where that little speech came from, but he knew that he meant every word of it.

Q’s face scrunched up a little, and he looked as though he was fighting tears. He squeezed Sal’s hand, and when his reply came, he sounded fierce and emotional. “Sal… I will never, _ever_ forget this. I will never forget that I am the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking _universe_ to have a best friend like you - I promise.”

Yet again, Sal was lost for words, lost for breath, just plain fucking _lost_ for Brian Quinn. He simply smiled, hoping to God that he could convey to the other man how much his words meant to him. Q seemed to understand, because he released Sal’s hand to pull him into a brief hug, breath tickling his neck. Then, leaning on the railings, they watched the glittering city for a while longer. Sal thought about how lucky he was - all the millions of people in New York City, the hundreds of thousands in Staten Island, and Q, wonderful, brave, hilarious Q, was _his_ best friend.

Eventually, it got too cold to stay out any longer, so they left to get a bite to eat, Sal feeling more than ever as they left the tower that he was doing the right thing. He hoped that Q would sleep soundly tonight.

 

**Monday 21st**

“So what did ya say this place was?” Q, looking up at the building, seemed a little confused.

“It’s by those same guys who did the Nightmare House. It’s called Santastical, and it’s kinda like a fucked up version of a Santa’s grotto. Like, different themed Santas, cool shit to do, sulky-ass elves...” Sal wasn’t really certain how to explain this. He’d read about it online, and thought it was exactly the sort of thing Q would go for.

Q laughed. “Sounds fun, bud. What are we waiting for?”

**********

The whole place looked as though somebody’s over the top Christmas yard decorations came to life and exploded everywhere. As soon as they walked in, Q’s face lit up. “This is fuckin’ awesome! And every area has a different theme?”

“I guess so, bud. Their website wasn’t givin’ away much information.” Sal couldn’t help smiling at his friend’s reaction, his stomach flipping at the almost childish joy in his face. “Okay, so we start over here in this room, I think.”

They made their way into a room that was, Sal assumed, meant to be a toy workshop. Elves were sitting at workbenches, cheeks painted pink, clothed in gaudy red and green - all totally at odds with their thick New Jersey accents, normal heights and loud complaints about overtime and minimum wage. Q snorted with laughter. “Can we talk to these guys?”

“I dunno, man, they look like they might beat you to death for a cookie.” Sal’s laughter faded as he received a filthy glare from one of the nearest elves. “Fuck, I _was_ kidding but now I’m not so sure.”

Q laughed even harder, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. “Sal, they’re _actors_. What’re they gonna do?” At this, he walked over to one of the slightly less angry looking ones, and raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, pal, how’s it goin’?”

The elf gave him a disgusted scowl. “Fuck you!”

Q backed away. “O-kay…” Looking at Sal, who had nearly fallen over laughing at the elf’s response, he shrugged. “I mean, they _are_ actors... I think. But I think it’s time to move on.” He placed his hand on Sal’s back and ushered him out of the door.

The next, much larger room was a forest. There were pine trees everywhere and fake snow on the ground. Q let out a soft exclamation of wonder as they walked down the path. “It feels like I just walked into fuckin’ Narnia!”

Sal side-eyed him with a grin. “Did you come out of a closet to get here?”

“Whatever you’re insinuating, _Sal,_ we both came through the same door.” Q pointed out, eyebrows raised.

“Touché.” Sal looked behind him at the door. To his shock and amusement, it actually _had_ been fitted to look like they’d come out of a wardrobe. He pointed behind him. “Uh, Q?”

The other man looked where Sal was pointing, and started laughing. “Oh, God. It’s like they _knew_ every fuckin’ adult coming through that door was gonna make that joke. They saw us comin’, buddy.”

They walked further into the artificial forest, and as they walked further, the trees started thinning out, leaving what appeared to be a clearing with the door on the other side. Q walked over to the door, went to open it, and then stopped dead, reading a sign hung there. Sal, standing in the middle of the clearing, asked, “What? What does it say?”

“Uhh…” Q turned around and looked up, and Sal could see that he was blushing deeply. He followed his friend’s gaze, and his heart fell to his knees. Q spoke again, looking awkward as fuck. “It, uh, I mean, you’re standing right there, and…”

“What does the sign say?”

“It says…” Q began to read the sign. “Mistletoe Clearing. Door locked. Only way forward is to… to…” He looked up and met Sal’s gaze. “...to follow tradition.”

Sal’s heart started thumping, a confusing mix of anxiety and something else he couldn’t identify taking hold of his chest. He moved over to Q’s side and read the sign himself, then tried the door. Fuck. “How does this work? Like, is there someone on the other side of the door waiting for us to… y’know?”

“I… I guess so. Fuck, look at it.” The whole ceiling of the clearing was thick with mistletoe. There was no escaping it.

Sal tried for nonchalance. “I mean, it can’t hurt, right? Shit, we’ve done worse for the laughs.”

The other man laughed, but as usual, his eyes betrayed him - he looked extremely nervous. “Yeah, a lot worse, and in front of bigger audiences too.” Sal wondered if that was the problem here. It was just them, and nobody to play up to. Abruptly, Q’s guard snapped up, and his expression became flirtatious. “You’re right, just a little kiss can’t hurt. And I won’t tell if you don’t…”

He leaned in, closing his eyes, and Sal couldn’t breathe. His best friend was so close that he could probably count his eyelashes. _It’s just a kiss_ , he told himself, _it doesn’t mean anything._ So he closed the gap between them, and their lips met. It was brief, chaste - barely more than a peck, really - but to Sal it felt like it went on for fucking ever. Q’s lips were warm, a little rough and dry from the cold weather, but somehow soft at the same time. The feel of a beard tickling him gently was a foreign, but oddly pleasant sensation. He didn’t think he’d ever forget how it all felt, and it was all he could do to stop himself carrying on.

There was a loaded, heavy silence afterwards. Then the _click_ of the door unlocking broke the spell, and Sal, trying his hardest to form full sentences, said “See? Not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” Q agreed. He had an indecipherable expression on his face, which unsettled Sal a little - he was used to being able to read his best friend like a book. What did it mean? Perhaps Q was grossed out and didn’t want to hurt Sal’s feelings. After all, he’d been really fucking disturbed when he’d had to kiss Murr that time, so why should now be any different?

Regardless of Sal’s thoughts on the whole thing, there was an odd tension between them as they walked through the next room. It was quickly forgotten, though, when they were met with the sight of five wildly different Santas, and a sandwich board proclaiming, “Choose your Santa! Whose lap will you sit on?”

“Uhh… I know you said different themed Santas, but these guys are kinda left field.”

Sal listed off the Santas aloud. “Sexy Mrs. Claus… shirtless guy Santa… Bernie Sanders Santa? Black Santa? _Krampus?_ This is wild.”

“This is awesome. Fuck, who do I even choose? Sexy Mrs. Claus, or Krampus?” Q looked between the two waiting Santas, looking like a kid in a candy shop.

Sal felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Q on some hot chick’s knee. He tried to crack a joke to hide it. “You wrote off the shirtless guy? Here I thought he was your type.”

He couldn’t help hoping that his friend would choose Krampus or some other Santa, and his heart sank when Q said “okay, Mrs. Claus then. Do you wanna come in the same photo, or…?”

“Nah. I might go for Bernie Santa, actually.” Sal was trying his hardest to keep the jealousy out of his voice, and when he watched the other man have his photo taken, flirting _outrageously_ with the stunning woman, he hoped to God he’d managed to keep it out of his face. He was on autopilot as he had his photo with the Bernie Sanders lookalike. But what did he expect? He’d known for years that Q didn’t feel that way about him, so he should expect and accept that the guy was gonna be in relationships. Fuck, he should be supporting him, not getting angry and insecure and hurt.

They met up again, and Sal tried to shake his sudden low mood off. _This week is not about_ your _feelings, Sal._ Smiling at Q, irrationally pleased when he was rewarded with one in return, he said, “I guess this was the last part. You ready to go, buddy?”

“Yeah. This was so fun. God, it made me feel like a kid again.”

They exited the building, and walked to the parking lot. They got into Q’s car and started for home, and Sal asked, “So what was your favourite part?”

Q thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Umm, I think I’m gonna have to say the forest.” He glanced quickly across at Sal, and added, “Because it was kinda magical, y’know?”

“Yeah, it was. It was probably my favourite room too. Same reason.” Sal felt awkward all of a sudden, mainly because he was lying through his fucking teeth about the reason. He changed subject slightly. “Though the elves came a close second. They were fuckin’ _priceless_ , man.”

“Oh God. Those guys were fucking funny. Can you imagine if elves were really like that?”

“Q, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but… elves aren’t real. Neither is Santa.” Sal put on a hushed, apologetic tone.

“Fuck! No! Really?” Q’s voice was mock-horrified. “Then who puts all my presents under the tree every year?”

Sal pretended to think for a moment, face completely deadpan. “Reverse burglar?”

Q started laughing, and they began to discuss the finer points of Santa being a reverse burglar. The conversation became effortless and lively again, lasting until they got home. Sal, despite his earlier feelings, was looking forward to tomorrow.

 

**Tuesday 22nd**

The next morning, a couple of packages arrived at Sal’s door. He checked they were the right ones, then wrapped them up carefully, hoping his friend would like them. He’d already bought and distributed gifts to the others, but fortunately he’d left Q till last, wanting to think very carefully about what to get him.

Sending a quick message to the other man to make sure he was up and about, he got ready, stowed one of the gifts in the back of his car, and drove to Q’s.

**********

“Hey bud!” Q opened the door, a bright smile on his face, eyes warm and affectionate. “Come in. You want anything to eat? Drink?”

Sal stepped into the hall. “I’m okay, thanks. We’re not doin’ anything special today, by the way, because we got lunch with Murr and Joe. _But…_ ” Here he stepped out of the open door, around the side of the house, and picked up the parcel he’d brought. He presented it to Q. “I got you a little somethin’, bud. You can open it now, because it’s not your main gift.”

Q took it, raising his eyes to meet Sal’s gaze. “Really? I can open it?” He walked to the living room, and Sal followed him. Sitting down on the sofa, he ripped the paper off, and let out a little gasp. His eyes got all wide and round, and he looked up at Sal with a look of slight disbelief. “How… How the fuck did you manage to get a hold of this?”

“Little bit of thought, mostly luck, pal. D’you like it?”

“Oh my _God_ , Sal, it’s fuckin’ perfect!” The gift Q had just unwrapped was a cast signed Ghostbusters poster with a certificate of authenticity. “I’m gonna put this up right here, where everyone can see it.” Putting the poster aside carefully, he stood up, grinning all over his face, and pulled Sal into a tight hug. “You’re awesome, buddy,” he murmured into his ear, warm breath tickling him a little.

Sal couldn't help blushing. When the hug ended, and he pulled away, he caught another one of those _gazes_ from Q again - that warm, soft smile, that intense, almost rapt look in his eyes. Sal shrugged it off, reasoning that he must be really fucking happy with his gift. Nevertheless, even though it was just because his friend was pleased, the way he was looking at Sal still left him breathless. Trying to distract from the feelings that had to be plain to see on his face, he looked at his watch. “Ah, fuck. We’re gonna be late for lunch if we don’t get our asses in gear.” He gestured with his head towards the front door. “C’mon, you can put that poster up later, bud.”

**********

The four Jokers met up at a pizzeria near Brooklyn Bridge. After enthusiastic greetings - as if it hadn't only been about four days since he and Q had last seen Joe and Murr - they found a table, slap bang in the middle of the room. “How you boys all been?” Joe asked, looking around at them.

“Pretty good,” Murr replied, stretching, “but I’m glad for this lunch. Home right now is hectic. My nephews and nieces are _crazy_ excited about Christmas.”

Sal laughed. “God, I can imagine. I’m excited about it and I'm nearly forty.”

“Yeah, Sal, but it doesn’t count ‘cause you ain’t nearly forty in your head - you’re about twelve.” Joe smirked as he picked up a menu and took a quick look. “Hey, the salad bar’s free with a medium pizza right now!”

Sal didn’t care about the salad bar. “I don’t have the mental age of a twelve year old! Q? Do I?”

He looked pleadingly over at Q, hoping for agreement. “No, not at all, buddy,” his friend replied seriously, although there was a playful look on his face, “actually, you got the mental age of an eighty year old woman.”

“Thanks for the support there, Quinn.”

“No problem, sweetie.”

Sal blushed. “Don’t _sweetie_ me! Don’t think you can butter me up with endearments…”

Murr interrupted their oddly charged bickering. “Hey! Flirt on your own time, lovebirds. We’re ready to order.” He and Joe were both staring at them, Murr with that _stupid_ grin on his face, and Joe with a worryingly knowing look. Sal, well aware of how fucking red he was, buried his face in his menu to avoid looking at any of them.

Luckily, they were saved by the waitress coming over to take their orders. She let them know they could go to the salad bar if they wanted to, and left. Joe gave Sal a significant look. “C’mon, Sal, we’ll go first.”

“Uhh, maybe Q or Murr should go first.” Sal _really_ didn’t wanna have whatever conversation this was about to be right now. Joe’s face went all stern, and he knew he wasn’t getting out of it. He sighed. “Or, y’know, I guess I am pretty hungry…”

He dragged his feet all the way to the salad bar, and then thought that maybe he _was_ a twelve-year-old inside. They collected a plate each, and Joe immediately turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “So. I hear you’re takin’ our boy Q on dates.”

“What? I… no, that’s… How do you know - Joe, you got it all wrong!” Sal was expecting a conversation about feelings, but he wasn’t expecting to be accused of _dating_ Q. “I wasn’t… I’m not dating him, I - you know he’s been really down, and I wanted to give him a really great Christmas. So I kinda took him cool places, and, I dunno…” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

The other man fixed him with a steady gaze. “Does _he_ know?”

“Does he know what?”

“Does he know you don’t think they’re dates?”

“I… I don’t know. I doubt he’s thought about it.” _Why would he? He doesn’t see me that way._

They moved around the bar, choosing their food. Joe spoke up. “Y’know, for someone with a numbers based degree, you’re really shit at doin’ the math, bro.”

Sal frowned at him. “What?”

“God. Can’t you see how he feels about you? He looks happier than he has in _months._ Look, I can’t help you here, bud. But be careful because you’re gonna end up hurtin’ him.”

“Huh? Hurting Q? But I’d never do that. And… and he doesn’t feel that way about me.” Sal’s stomach had dropped. He couldn’t accept what his friend was saying, because it simply couldn’t be true.

Joe shook his head. “I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose. Look, think about it, pal. You need to open your eyes. And I might be an idiot, but I’m not stupid - I know how you feel about him, too. Even if you don’t _think_ they’re dates, they might be. Have ya done anything kinda date-ish?”

Sal’s mind immediately cast back to a certain moment in the clearing of a fake forest. He could have denied it, but his expression had already given him away. “Uhh. It… we had to do it, otherwise we couldn’t get outta the room, but we, uh, we sorta… kissed. But it was nothin’. We were practically forced.” He knew exactly how weak his excuses sounded.

“Nothin’,” Joe echoed, the look on his face that of a teacher dealing with a particularly slow student. “Sal, _nothin’_ would have been no kiss at all. Next you’ll be tellin’ me you fuckin’ held hands.”

“Uhh.” It slipped out before Sal could stop it.

Joe sighed. “Look. I’m not tellin’ you off, and I’m not mad at you. But you need to get your head outta your ass and realise what’s going on with you two before he gets his heart broken. I’m not sayin’ you hafta stop takin’ him out, or distance yourself from him. Just… think about what I said, ‘kay?”

Sal’s head was spinning with this new perspective given him, and the knowledge that someone else believed that Q had feelings for him. He nodded, and managed to reply with a joke. “Thanks, Aunt Joey.”

Joe laughed. “Shut up. Come on, we’ve been hanging around this salad bar for fuckin’ ages and Q and Murray are gonna think we died.”

**********

The rest of the meal was uneventful, the conversation turning to light hearted chat and talk of Christmas and New Year’s plans, then to resolutions and the New Year. Murr’s resolution was to get more of his foolproof plans to work, and Q joked that it should actually be for him to be less of a jerk. Sal told them that his resolution was to get punished less, but his true resolution, that he _wasn’t_ going to say out loud, was to untangle this confusing mess between him and Q. Joe’s, to nobody’s surprise, was to “find Larry.”

Q, after some thought, spoke. “Oh. I have a good resolution. It’s to meet someone I’ve really wanted to meet for a long time.”

There was a chorus of “Who?”, and his face immediately split into the most smug grin Sal had ever seen on the guy. “Dave Thomas, Founder of Wendy’s.”

“Fuck!”

“You asshole!” Murr slapped the table.

Sal laughed, his face in his hands. “I can _not_ believe we fell for that. You bastard!”

“And there is no fuckin’ way you guys can get me back before the new year either.” Q was laughing it up, eyes all crinkled and shining. Sal thought suddenly that he was willing to forgive his friend almost anything, as long as he could see him like that as much as possible.

“Yeah yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, bro. One of us will get our revenge,” Joe said, smiling. “Anyway, who’s having dessert?”

**********

It was another forty-five minutes before they finally left, and Q and Sal parted ways with Joe and Murr. He stopped at Q’s house for a while before heading home, and as they hugged each other goodbye on his friend’s porch, he wondered what was going on in his head.

That night he thought hard about what Joe had said, but his thoughts just ended up racing in circles no matter how much he tried to sort things out in his head. Why would Q feel the same way about him? Why would he see the outings this week as dates when Sal had explained what he was doing? _Were_ they dates? Was he really being stupid and blind, like Joe had said? He just couldn’t see _why_ his friend would see him that way. Eventually, he gave up and went to bed. The last thought in his head before he fell asleep was the question of what Q’s actual New Year’s resolution might be.

 

**Wednesday 23rd**

“So lunch yesterday was fun, huh?” Q and Sal were drinking coffee in Q’s living room, discussing the previous day.

Sal, upon waking up that morning, had decided to put the whole ‘dating Q’ confusion out of his head for the time being, and think about it after he’d completed Operation: Merry Quinnmas. He smiled, reflecting on their lunches over the years and considering how little their friendship had truly changed. “It was. Glad we managed to avoid talkin’ about work for once, though. And I _still_ can't believe you got us with Dave Thomas!”

The other man laughed, spreading his hands out. “What can I say? I’m awesome.”

“Yeah, you are.” As soon as he said it, Sal realised that it had come out sounding a little love struck. In a terrible attempt to cover up his awkwardness, he tried to change the subject. “By the way, I didn't get to mention it yesterday - but why the fuck haven't you put any decorations up?”

Q looked away, his gaze travelling around the bare room. “I… I didn't really feel like it. Kinda wanted to forget that Christmas was even happenin’ this year.” He looked back at Sal, and his eyes were a little sad.

“Oh, Bri.” Sal reached over and put a hand on his knee, his heart aching. “How’re you feelin’ now, bud?”

The other man smiled, covering Sal’s hand with his own. “Better. I think I’m starting to come out of it now. And that… that’s ‘causa you, Sally.”

As he said the last thing, he really did look truly happy, and, Sal thought with a fluttering heart, hopeful. “It’s nothin’, buddy. You deserve to be happy.” Q looked a little dubious at that, but didn't say anything. Abruptly, Sal remembered the reason he was there. “Oh! I got you another present today, bud. Here ya go.”

Q took the proffered gift. He looked surprised, and Sal wanted to laugh - what was he expecting? The guy knew what this week was about, so he should expect gifts. Sal watched as Q tore open the wrapping, and the expression on his face changed from surprise to shocked delight. “Fuckin’... is - is that Stan Lee’s signature? _Holy fuck_!” He held up a 30th anniversary edition of Spiderman #26.

“Sure is, buddy.” Sal had entered an incredibly stressful bidding war for that particular item, and it had been a close run thing for a while. “So… it’s alright?”

“Alright? Sal, it’s fucking amazing! I… but this musta cost a fortune, man. You shouldn’t have.”

Sal shrugged. “Worth every penny, bud.” Q was gazing at him like _that_ again, all fond and warm and sweet, and Sal was finding it impossible to ignore the sneaky little voice in his head that told him his friend never looked at anybody else like that. He stood up, trying to distract himself. “So! Let’s put some decorations up.”

“Huh? But don't you think it’s a little late?”

“It’s not Christmas yet, is it? C’mon, it won't take long.”

In the end, it didn't take much convincing to get Q to get his decorations out of storage. They spent the afternoon putting up the tree and decorating it together, Sal in charge of light placement, Q on bauble duty. When it came time to put the angel on the top, Sal found himself being lifted up, strong arms placed around his waist. “Fuck! What are you doing?”

“There isn't a ladder around, so this is easier. C’mon.”

Sal felt oddly safe and secure like this. Still, he was probably really fucking heavy, so, trying not to think of other, less innocent scenarios in which the other man could be lifting him up, he placed the angel on top of the tree. “Okay, got it.” With a dizzying suddenness, Q spun him round to the centre of the room, and lowered him down, laughing at his face. Sal tried to take a stern tone, but his smile gave him away. “God, Quinn! Can you warn me next time you’re gonna do that?”

“Nope.” They were standing right in each other's spaces, just inches apart, and Sal was reminded again of that moment under the mistletoe. As the silence became more prolonged, the atmosphere around them became heavy and tense again.

Sal felt frozen to the spot, pinned by the other man’s intense gaze - until he started worrying about what Q might be feeling, what was going through his head. What if he was just mistaking his friend’s pleasure at his gifts and enjoyment of the last few days for something else? What if he did kiss the guy and it turned out to be a horrible decision? He remembered Joe’s words - _you’re gonna hurt him if you’re not careful_ \- and thought, perhaps a little bitterly, that he was more likely to get hurt than Q. After all, it didn't matter what Joe said, there was just no way his best friend felt anything towards him but platonically.

He let out an awkward laugh and stepped back a little, breaking the tension. “Uh. So there’s some tinsel and shit to put up, right?” He turned around and started going through a box of decorations.

“...Yeah.” Q sounded quiet and slightly embarrassed, but he came to help Sal find some nice tinsel. Although it took a while for the tension between them to dissipate completely, eventually they were talking and laughing as if there hadn't been that odd, almost-something interlude.

Finally, Q’s home looked cheery and warm, the fairy lights twinkling prettily in the windows and on the tree. They stored the boxes away, and settled themselves on the sofa again. Sal looked around. “Looks much better now, bud.”

“It does. I actually feel kinda festive now. Thanks for gettin’ me to do it, pal.”

“It was really fun.” Glancing at his watch, Sal realised it was getting late. “Ah, fuck. I should get back home, buddy. I’ll see ya tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

Q smiled as they stood. “Sure. Can't wait to see what you got in store for me this time.”

When Sal left, he found himself reflecting on their moment in the living room. He couldn't help feeling a little regretful that he didn't just take it further when he had the chance.

 

**Thursday 24th**

There was a knock on the door, and Sal, straightening his tie, went to answer it. The sight that met him took his breath away, and it must have shown on his face, because Q rubbed his nose self consciously, his smile shy and his face all scrunched up. “Do I look okay?”

He looked stunning - there was really no other word for it. He was wearing a black tailored suit, deep red shirt, and a black tie. Sal should have been mad that Q was upstaging the fuck out of him - he had just pulled out his usual black suit - but he was too busy trying to put his eyes back in his head. He simply gestured vaguely towards Q. “Wow, you - you look great. Really great.” _You look and sound like a fucking idiot, Vulcano._

“Really? You’re not just sayin’? Thanks, bud.” Q looked flattered and pleased, and then he looked Sal up and down deliberately, a flirtatious half-smile on his face. “You’re lookin’ pretty good yourself there, handsome.”

“Uhh.” Sal’s brain shut down, and he didn’t think it was possible to go any redder than he felt he was at this moment. His face was burning, and he couldn’t think anything else except _oh god, he just called me handsome!_ He felt like a teenage girl, and Q was staring at him with amused fondness, waiting for his reply. He forced a sentence out, just for the sake of saying _something._ “I, um, I guess I wanted to make an effort. Because of where we’re going.”

“...And where are we goin’?” If the other guy had noticed that Sal had just lied about _why_ he wanted to make an effort - fucking terribly - he didn’t say anything.

“You’ll see when we get there. C’mon, we need to go, or we’ll be late.”

**********

It was early evening and already dark when they arrived at a pier in west side Manhattan. There were yachts and boats moored up, and Q seemed a mix of puzzled and very intrigued. Sal decided to put him out of his misery. “Okay, buddy, you wanna know what it’s about? Well..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...Tonight, we’re going on a dinner cruise!”

“Wow, really? Awesome! So that’s why the suits and shit. Where’s the yacht?”

Q seemed so enthusiastic and pleased that Sal wanted to kiss him there and then. He pointed it out - an impressive cruiser with festive fairy lights and welcoming, warm looking lights in the windows. He checked the time - nearly six. “We gotta board, pal. Dinner starts at seven but they want us on now.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Q gestured ahead of him. “After you, buddy.”

**********

Their seats were by a window, so there was a perfect view of the city across the water. After they set off, they ordered their appetisers, which came almost ridiculously quickly. The talk was light and insignificant for a while, as they ate their way through their appetisers and then their starters. Then, just before the main course, the live music for the evening was announced.

Q’s head snapped round to look at Sal, his eyes wide with astonishment. He spoke haltingly, voice thick with emotion. “You… you knew an _Elvis tribute act_ was the entertainment for the night? You went outta your way to make sure we got _this_ date?”

Sal wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction. “Yeah, I guess I did. I mean, you fuckin’ love the guy, and when I found out, I thought-”

“-But you did it for _me_ ,” Q interrupted. “I - I can’t believe how thoughtful, how much effort…” He trailed off, shaking his head, as the act came on the stage to applause, and after an introduction, began to sing _Love Me Tender._

As they listened, their main course arrived. They began to eat, and Sal felt he had to say something. “Of course I did it for you, bud. You’re my best friend. I mean, fuck. I’d - I’d do fuckin’ anything for you.” He wondered if he should have said that - it felt a little too close to an admission for comfort.

The other man looked up and met his gaze. “Me too, Sal. Anything.” His reply felt loaded, and Sal felt more than ever that they were plunging headlong into something that scared him, something that could damage the both of them for good - but at the same time, something that could be the best thing he’d ever had.

The meal, wore on, from main to dessert, and eventually the patrons began to move around the room, going to the bar and heading to the deck. The two men headed outside, taking in the night air and enjoying the view in a comfortable silence. From where they stood, they could still hear the tribute act, who had just finished a song. There was a few moments' quiet, then the first few notes of a familiar tune began to play.

“I love this song,” Q murmured.

**_Wise men say only fools rush in_ **

**_But I can’t help falling in love with you_ **

Sal’s stomach hurt as he listened to the words. It felt like a sign, a great big cosmic arrow pointing at his best friend and screaming _do it now or you’ll regret it forever!_ He took a deep breath. “Me too. It’s one of my favourites.” He turned to Q to find the guy already watching him, his eyes reflecting the lights of the city. He’d never looked so beautiful.

**_Take my hand, take my whole life too_ **

**_I can’t help falling in love with you_ **

“Q, I…”

Q held out his hand. “If - if you wanna. It’s up to you.”

He looked so hopeful, and so afraid. But if there had been any doubt left in Sal’s mind before this song came on, it had vanished as soon as his best friend extended that hand. Laughing a little, he placed his hand in Q’s. “Of course. Of course I want to, Brian. How could I fucking want anythin’ else?”

The other man smiled, his whole face lighting up with the most amazing mix of elation and relief and what Sal finally recognised as _love._ Joe had been right - he’d been blind and stupid this whole time. Q really _did_ feel the same way. “I’m so glad. I - I love you, Sal.”

“I - God, I love you too. I do.” Sal felt so light and ecstatic that he thought he might float away. Instead, he leaned forward, closing his eyes, and this time when their lips met, it wasn’t awkward or confusing, it was intoxicating and right and fucking _romantic_. Q’s mouth on his was a warm, soft contrast to the cold, sharp night air, and he kissed as though this might be his last - putting everything into it, all of his heart, and the rest of the world fell away for Sal as his focus narrowed down to just the two of them, this moment, because it was perfect.

Eventually they broke apart, conscious of the people around them. Sal didn’t feel much like talking - he felt as though speaking aloud would ruin the atmosphere - and the other man seemed to feel the same. So they turned back towards the water, watching the world go by. Q placed an arm around Sal’s waist, pulling him closer, and Sal leaned his head on his best friend’s shoulder. They stayed that way for what felt like forever, and would have stayed longer if they could, if Sal hadn’t realised after a while that he was really cold. He started shivering, and Q immediately noticed. “Whoa, you’re fuckin’ freezing, buddy. Let’s go inside. We’ll be back on shore again soon, anyway.” They made their way back in, and Sal dared to take Q’s hand and lace their fingers together, feeling a little awed at the novelty of just being able to _do that_. Glancing at the other man, he saw that same contentment and happiness he’d seen on the top of the Empire State Building. Suddenly, he felt like he could burst with all the love he felt at that moment.

**********

It was late when they finally arrived back at Sal’s house. Q pulled up outside. Sal opened the door to get out, then stopped short. “Hey, it’s really late. Do - uhh, do ya wanna spend the night?” He blushed as he realised how that must have sounded. “I don’t mean like _that_ , I mean, ya know, it’s Christmas Eve, and, I mean, if you wanna-”

“-I’d love to.” Q wasn’t outright laughing, but there was amusement plain to see in his eyes. They headed into the house and straight upstairs. “Can I borrow some PJs?”

“Sure.” Sal rooted around in his drawers and pulled out an old pair of pyjamas, then threw them to the other man. They changed in front of each other - they’d seen each other naked so many times it didn’t bother them - and got into bed.

Sal switched his light off, and turned onto his side. “G’night,” he murmured sleepily. As he was dozing off, he heard Q whisper from behind him, “'night, Sally...” - and then the last thing he remembered before waking up on Christmas morning, was a warm, soothing weight at his back, and an arm settling protectively around him.

 

**Friday 25th**

Sal woke up feeling seriously perplexed. His first thought was _'what the fuck?'_ as he registered an unfamiliar presence cuddled up behind him, nestled into the lines of his body. His next thought then was _'is this real?'_ as every single moment from the previous night came back to him - the meal, that song, and then their fucking _incredible_ first kiss.

Q was deeply asleep, his breathing slow and even. It was comforting for Sal to hear, and to know that he could be lucky enough to wake up to this for the rest of his days. After listening for a while, he turned over slowly, trying not to wake the other man, and gazed at him. If he was gorgeous when awake, then he was even more so when he was asleep. His face was smooth and relaxed, his expression peaceful - there was an endearing little smile on his face. Sal reached over and gently brushed Q’s cheek with the back of his hand, loving how it felt against his skin, and loving how he reacted slightly to it in his sleep - turning his head towards Sal’s touch with a little sigh. Sal’s heart beat so hard it felt like it was swelling up.

He stayed like that for a while, watching his best friend’s face and marvelling all over again at his luck. Then, slowly, Q began to stir, his eyelids fluttering, and when he opened his eyes, his sleepy gaze focusing on Sal, he looked momentarily confused. “What… _oh_.”

Sal felt a smile spread slowly across his face. "Morning, buddy. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Q echoed softly, almost uncertainly.

He looked as though he wasn't sure if this was real or not - and Sal truly understood that one. He’d dreamt of this enough times that when he’d first woken up, he thought he was dreaming too. “It’s real, Bri,” he reassured gently, “you’re not dreaming.” Then he cupped the other man’s face, revelling in that expression of dawning realisation and growing happiness, and kissed him, long and slow, sleepy and languid. It was the perfect start to what might shape up to be the perfect Christmas Day.

**********

After a short lie-in, they got up, and Q cooked breakfast. It was early, and neither of them really had anywhere to be for hours yet, so they simply took it slow and enjoyed each other’s company. On the surface, nothing had significantly changed - their banter was still the same, the shameless flirting and stupid conversations about shit that didn’t make any sense unchanged - but underneath all that vital, building-blocks stuff that made up their friendship, there was now something else. It was as though their revelations had unlocked a door between them they hadn’t even known existed, and allowed them to finally _connect_ the way they’d always been meant to. There were no more barriers, no more awkwardness and jealousy and bottled up sadness. That was now replaced by little kisses, reassuring touches and an overwhelming feeling of rightness.

After breakfast, after all the washing up was done, the two of them sat on Sal’s sofa, sipping coffee. Sal’s stomach was churning - he was about to give Q his final gift. What if he didn’t like it? What if there was no room? What would he do then? He took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out. “So, Q… I got your proper Christmas gift. D’ya want it?”

Obviously picking up on Sal’s anxiety, Q took his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb gently against his knuckles. “Of course, buddy. I can’t wait.”

“Okay, stay here. Close your eyes. I’ll be back in a moment.” Sal left the room, heading towards the utility room. Gingerly, he picked up his friend’s gift and carried it into the living room where Q was waiting. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

The other man did, and immediately his jaw dropped and his eyes got all puppyish and big. He stood up and quickly took the present from Sal, speaking in a whisper. “Oh my _God_ , Sally. She’s… She’s fuckin’ beautiful.” Then he looked up, and Sal could see he was on the verge of tears. “How long have you managed to keep a _cat_ in your house? For me?”

Sal shrugged. He tried to appear unconcerned, but he had been uncomfortable around the thing a few times. “Um, I found her at the shelter on Sunday mornin’, then I fetched her yesterday. Not so long.” Quite frankly, he would have had her three times that long if it made Q happy.

The other guy was staring at him in disbelief, and tears fell down his cheeks. “You... this is… how can I ever thank you?” He looked down at the cat, already at home in his arms. She was almost black, with brown eyes. “What made you choose her?”

“Thank me by taking care of yourself as much as I know you’ll take care of her. And, well…” Sal blushed. “I chose her because… she reminded me of you. She was just lyin’ in the corner, all sad and lonely. And she even _looks_ like you. So now she has you to look after her, and you have me to look after you.”

Q gazed at him with a lopsided, happy smile, tears still on his face. “You got no idea how much this means to me. The cat, yeah, but not just her. That you would choose her and carry her home and be near her for a whole day to make me happy, even though you musta hated it? You’re just… you’re the most amazing, brave, fucking _magnificent_ man I’ve ever known, and I swear - I _promise_ \- I will take care of you too, for as long as I goddamn can.”

It was Sal’s turn to cry. He let out a hitched sob, and Q, gently depositing the cat on the sofa, stepped forward and hugged him tightly, planting a kiss on his temple. “Look at us idiots, huh?” he murmured gently.

“I just - I never thought - even in my wildest dreams-”

“Hey. Remember what you said this morning? This is _real_. It’s happening.” Q’s voice sounded thick with tears again. “And… and I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m gonna take it, ‘cause you’re the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to me, honey. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bri. So fucking much.”

 

**New Year’s Eve**

“So is this technically our first real date, bud?”

“Well, I guess since I had no idea I was dating you at all… yeah, it is.” Sal and Q had just pulled into a parking lot at the Weehawken waterfront park in New Jersey. It was 11pm, and the whole of Manhattan Island was lit up with parties, and they could feel from all the way across the river the city’s anticipation of the approaching New Year.

Q watched as Sal opened the trunk of his car and brought out a few blankets, and a picnic basket. He grinned. “You came prepared, huh?”

Sal shot him a sidelong glance. “Q. This is me we’re talkin’ about.”

He handed the picnic basket over to his best friend, and they walked to the spot Murr had told Q about. It had the perfect view of Manhattan - they could see the whole expanse, and it was breathtaking. Sal spread out the blanket and dumped the extra ones, Q deposited the basket, and they sat down. Q pulled a blanket over them. “So what’s in the mysterious hamper, Sally?”

“Nothin’ too extravagant. Sandwiches, hot chocolate, cake, pickles-”

“Pickles? Did ya bring those for me?”

Sal blushed. “Maybe.”

Leaning over and stealing a kiss from Sal, Q laughed. “Never stop blushin', baby. It’s fucking adorable. And you shouldn’t have. Well, no. Glad you did.” He pulled the food towards them and poured hot chocolate from a thermos for them both, and then shared out the food between them.

As they ate, they talked, and Sal thought about how drastically someone’s life could change in a matter of days. And all it had taken was somebody wanting to make his best friend happy. What if he had never had the idea in the first place? Would they still be going round in circles, treading the same old tired steps over and over again? Or would something else have been the catalyst for this somewhere down the road?

“Penny for ‘em?” Q’s teasing voice broke through his thoughts.

“Oh! I was just thinkin’ how… well, how different things could be if I’d never decided to try and cheer you up last week.”

The other man looked across the water for a moment, thinking. “Not really much use thinkin’ like that, bud,” he eventually replied. “We’re here, and we’re together, and ya can’t change that. Not that I would ever fuckin’ want to.”

Sal looked at him. “I know, me neither. I just got a bit freaked out ‘cause I realised how close it was. One decision and this might never have happened, and-”

“Yeah, but it did,” Q interrupted. “You made a good decision, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have this any other way.” He didn’t say anything else - he just put his arm around Sal and pulled him close. Sal leaned his head on Q’s shoulder, taking in that scent and letting it comfort him, ground him. The guy was right - there was no point worrying about shit that never ended up happening.

Long minutes passed before either of them moved again. Then Q looked at his watch. “Shit! It’s nearly midnight. I make it a minute to. Are ya ready, buddy?”

Sal sat upright, smiling. He had never been more ready to enter a new year. “Yep.”

They waited, watching Q’s watch intently. Then, when it hit the ten-second countdown, they started counting together, fingers entwined. _Ten… Nine… Eight..._ Sal could swear he could hear every single person across the river counting too. _Seven… Six… Five..._ He looked at Q, committing to memory everything about the man in this moment - his shining eyes, his smile, and his hope for the future. _Four… Three… Two… One…_

They turned to each other, their love reflected in each other’s smiles. Q squeezed Sal’s hand. “Happy New Year, Sal.” He murmured.

“Happy New Year, Brian.” They kissed, and fireworks began going off all across Manhattan. It was cheesy and a massive cliché, like something out of a mid 2000s chick flick - but it was fucking _perfect._ They turned to watch, and Sal felt, just as he had at the top of the Empire State Building, that it could almost be a show put on just for them.

Q leaned his head against Sal's. "S'gonna be a good year." He sounded like he believed it. And Sal did too. Sure, they would have their ups and downs, their anxieties and shitty moods - but they both truly believed that this year the good would outweigh the bad... and they would have each other's backs for every single moment.

 


End file.
